Darkness Beckons
by Alexandra P. Useless
Summary: Rated T for safety. Prone to Change. Follows Toad and Sabertooth after the Liberty Isle incedent. Yay for ToadAngsty Goodness! Under Major Construction
1. One

**I do not own any of the X-men character, damnit all. I certainly don't own Toad, or Storm, who is only represented ONCE in this story , meaninglessly. What's more, I don't own Mystique, Lady Liberty, or Victor, for that matter, but the main thing is I DON'T OWN TOAD, DAMNIT!**

**Rating: PG-13 (T for teen)**

**Grotesquely written by Alexandra P. Useless**

**A note to the readers:**

**This here was my first fanfic ever written. Looking back at it, I'm very disappointed by it, but I was a new writer back then, so I don't feel embarrassed for the mediocre condition of the writing. I'm currently revamping the entire fic, chapter upon chapter upon chapter. I don't know where the story is going now, but I have an idea. I may be contacting a few Toad Fic writers for advice. I'm also in need of a beta, if any one's interested.**

**ALSO, IMPORTANT. I'm thinking of changing the title, as it was origionally for a one-shot storry, it really doesn't fit the plot, which is ALSO subject to change with this re-vamping.**

**Now, with all that aside, I present to you;**

**10/16/06: This is to say that this story is currently on it's first revamp. I'm working on updating all the while, but it won't be perfect. Ever. That said, I'll be making a SECOND attempt at perfect when I employ yet another wave of re-vamping after I've posted the final chapter. Then maybe I'll leave this story alone. Any way, just a heads up! **

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_**-Darkness Beckons-

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**_

Furious winds whipped at Mortimer's body, buffeting him from side to side. The muscles in his neck strained as he was thrown about relentlessly.

"Do you know what happens to a toad when it is struck by lightning?"

_Oh God, she wouldn't!_

"Same thing that happens to everything else."

_She would._

From the corner of his line of vision, which had been blurred by falling rain and flying debris, he saw the streak of light, horrifying as it was, come streaking towards him with deadly speed. As it found it's mark, Toad found himself plummeting away from the railing with an enraged cry of pain.

His body flew from Lady Liberty, pummeled by the debris the weather witch had thrown about in her raging attack. The world swirled above him for a few mind numbing seconds, the roaring of wind and awater and lights and sirens.

And suddenly water. Endless, depthless water. Filling his mouth, his nose, his lungs. There was a sore lack up and down, and the other direction one likes to be aware of. Just the blackness of the midnight sea, and the bubbles stirred by his thrashing limbs and his water-muffled pleas for help.

Toad watched as the last gasp of air drifted away from him, up to what must have been the surface, but he couldn't will his limbs to follow. He allowed his body to drift into the state of unconsciousness he knew as a sanctuary. His limbs, benumbed, drifted around him like seaweed, and he succumbed to the darkness that so beckoned to him with a seductive face. And he drifted, pushed by a powerful current, caught by another, tossed to the next.

In the darkness, in the chill, Toad was sure he would die in the next second to come. That was only natural. But as he was tossed this way and that, the moment never came, and the darkness once again cradled him in her arms.

How it happened remains a mystery, but some how, perhaps by the moving waters, perhaps by the faintest breath still left in his lungs, he resurfaced, the night's air settling on his newly burnt face. He breathed. It was hardly that at all, barely enough to be real. But some how, he breathed, and with that, he lived… But he knew it wouldn't last for long, and soon felt the water fill my mouth and nose again. His body reacted sharply, and harsh, wheezing coughs sputtered from his lips before even that sound was drowned in the salty water. And he sank again from the surface, bubbles of the little air he had drawn in trailing up his face...

_So this is it, _he thought grimly.

Thoughts of helplessness swarmed his brain.

Thoughts of uselessness.

The Brotherhood would be unable to function with out Mystique or Sabertooth; The strength, the speed, the smarts of the operation. The Brotherhood would falter and die with out Magneto's leadership. Toad was just the technician. Replaceable.

The last bubble of air struggled up to the surface.

His last tie to the world above.

Mortimer's eyes drifted open once more. Was that the hum a motor? Perhaps, but what did that matter?

There was nothing left for him to destroy in this life time. His eyes slid closed in acceptance of his bleak fate. Nothing mattered. All hope of light and warmth and life was gone. As death stretched to gently caress his face, a small, sadistic smile played at his lips.

_Darkness beckons. _

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**So? Re-vamped chapter good?**


	2. Two

**Alrighty now! Here's the second chapter I've fixed up. I deffinately think I'll end up demolishing the plot and working on a new one. So look out.**

**I might also mention, I'm** **just on my second week into the eigth grade year; I've got new names to learn, new things to lable, new lockers to get used to, newpeople to deal with, soccer practice, home work, and life outside of my computer ((eek! noooo!)) to deal with.b There might even be some junior college or maybe some high school classes to look at. **

**That said, these updates have never been frequent, and they're going to be VERY random for the next month or so. Sop don't kill me! I'm working at it! Writing's my biggest passion, and I'm just trying to get all this straight! I'll be back soon! **

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Victor Creed heard the sirens before his eyes opened, and indeed, even that felt like too much a hassle at this point. His entire body ached in such a miserable fashion, he didn't particularly care about the goings on around him any way. But even as he tried to ease himself back into the comfortable darkness he had been in on seconds earlier, a voice churned in the back of his head.

_Come now Victor, up with it, back to business_.

Magneto.

How many times had he heard those words? He sat up, instantly regretting it as pain pulsed up his side and set offall sorts of sirens and lights in his head.

_Damn. _

Pure animal instinct told him to care for himself before moving on to other tasks. He probed gingerly under the layers of thick leather and cloth, flinching when his fingers brushed a protrusion of steel, jutting from between two ribs, both of which seemed the worse for whear.

_Suck it up, Victor._

He bit his lip, yanking themetal shard from the wound and casting it aside. The wound began to mend; a strange, tingling sensation that had become like breathing to him. Like the Wolverine, he possessed the healing factor. Also like the Wolverine, he could expect a few days on this particular wound. Best to keep an eye on it. He wasn't as foolish as his size and strength would warrant.

With a steap, heavy sigh, he began to take inventory - Two other broken ribs, steadily mending. Dislocated shoulder. He would only have to twist it back into proper form. Several splinters of glass had imbedded themselves deep into flesh and muscle, but the X-factor in his genes had already set his body against them, and they would have pushed themselves out within the hour. Most broken bones would mend before the second day, he knew.

What next? He glared around, the grogginess giving way to sharp clarity as his training under Magneto overtook his mind.

The mission.

The plan.

The X-men.

They had escaped him.

He had fallen.

Judging by the sirens and flashing lights, he hadn't been the only one. Where were the others?

_Regroup later._

Then he heard the sirens again. Lights flashed on the dark horizon as police boats sped towards Lady Liberty, laden with armed men. Victor Growled in protest. It was time to leave.

"Fool, fool, back to the beginning is the rule." He whispered the words softly, the corners of his mouth twitching, despite the painful throbbing in his head. He had read that before, long ago, from a book that had found it's way into the brotherhood's small collection of literature. He had always whispered the little rhyme after first reading it. And now he would, in fact, go back to the beginning, at the brotherhood's head quarters.

There were plenty of boats the towering statue's base, all motorized. Victor made a rather crude captain, it was had always been The Toad's task to work the controls, but he wasn't helpless either. He started the engine just short of smoothly, wasting no time in wading into the fog that the weather which had left over the bay; with luck, he would by-pass the wads of officers speeding towards the island. The boat was heading in the opposite direction of the police vessels, but in an arc, so that he would soon dock at the mainland, where he could find a more suitable boat, with perhaps even a full tank of fuel.

_And then back to Magneto, back to head quarters._ _Back to the beginning _

Ocean spray assaulted his face, dampening his hair considerably. He snorted, having inhaled some of the salty droplets. Ugh, the polluted water stank horribly to his enhanced feline senses. And water had always bothered him any way... He reached up to wipe the spray from his face with his fur-lined sleeve. But just before he'd drew it across his cheeks, he picked up a familiar scent.

His nostrils flared. He sniffed again... Yes, he had definitely smelled it. He turned the boat as sharply as possible without capsizing, leaning with the curve. He lifted his head, inhaling sharply, repeatedly. Yes, there it was. He let the boat drift, turning the motor off so that he could listen. His eyes closed partially. There. Water lapping at cloth, ripples on the surface, radiating from... He opened his dark eyes again, peering into the darkness.

_There._

A still, silent form, floating only ten, maybe fifteen feet off. Victor quickly gunned the motor to life, and slipped through the water to the creature whom he had spotted. His clawed hand darted swiftly into the water, grasping the back of the unlucky creature's shirt and hauling him on board, and only just in time. The lifeless body had all but sank just as he had arrived. It reeked of that familiar scent. That _frogish _scent.

He knelt next to the still form and roughly turned it onto it's back, laying it flat. As he looked over the listless face, his suspicions were confirmed.

"Mortimer..."

Victor knelt uneasily over Toad's body, taking in the horrific burns stretching the length of his jaw, down his neck and bellow his clothes line. Blood seeped timidly from behind the man's lips. He didn't appear to be breathing.

Creed dipped his fingers into the mess of clothing Toad wore to preserve heat, finding the cold, clammy skin of the amphibianiod's neck.

No Pulse.

He waited, counting to sixty in his head. Raven had explained this process before. Toad's pulse would have slowed significantly, like a frog's might have when it was deep in hibernation.

__

61, 62,63,64,65,66,67 6-

Pulse.

A faint chill of relief tugged at his belly.

Alive.

Just barely.

Frowning, he set a hand to Toad's middle, applying pressure carefully. Polluted water ran from the frog-man's lips, rippling down his cheek and dripping onto the boat floor.

Pushed a bit harder.

A stronger flow bubbled from Toad's mouth. Victor continued, pressing all the harder until the smaller man suddenly gasped, drawing in air before expelling another mouthful of water. His body jerked dramatically. As bay water rushed across the cool metal floor.

Creed placed a hand on either shoulder, restraining Toad to where he lay.

The erratic twitching became full on convulsions. Victor held his young charge until he stilled, laying his head to one side, energy sapped. Soft, ragged breaths struggled into the mutant's lungs, at which he trembled just the slightest. Creed sighed, releasing Toad's quivering shoulders.

" 'Tooth?"

Mort's voice was soft and drained, and slurred a bit more than usual. Victor answered.

"Yeah, it's me, runt. We're headed back to the mainland."

"D' we win?"

"...I don't think so."

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**tying next chapter over Eh? What are you doing here? The chapter's over! Shoo! Go work on YOUR Toad fanfiction so I have somethign todrool over! If you're not a toad fanfic writer, then GET STARTED!**


	3. Three

**Well, he're chapter three, reworked and shorterthan it used to be. I'm definately going to change the direction of the plot, and the title. Please send me any ideas for either if you have them! I'll be happy to get some input from my readers!**

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Victor knelt uneasily over Toad's body, taking in the horrific burns stretching the length of his jaw, down his neck and bellow his clothes line. Blood seeped timidly from behind the man's lips. He didn't appear to be breathing.

Creed dipped his fingers into the mess of clothing Toad wore to preserve heat, finding the cold, clammy skin of the amphibianiod's neck.

No Pulse.

He waited, counting to sixty in his head. Raven had explained this process before. Toad's pulse would have slowed significantly, like a frog's might have when it was deep in hibernation.

61, 62,63,64,65,66,67 6-

Pulse.

A faint chill of relief tugged at his belly.

Alive.

Just barely.

Frowning, he set a hand to Toad's middle, applying pressure carefully. Polluted water ran from the frog-man's lips, rippling down his cheek and dripping onto the boat floor.

Pushed a bit harder.

A stronger flow bubbled from Toad's mouth. Victor continued, pressing all the harder until the smaller man suddenly gasped, drawing in air before expelling another mouthful of water. His body jerked dramatically. As bay water rushed across the cool metal floor.

Creed placed a hand on either shoulder, restraining Toad to where he lay.

The erratic twitching became full on convulsions. Victor held his young charge until he stilled, laying his head to one side, energy sapped. Soft, ragged breaths struggled into the mutant's lungs, at which he trembled just the slightest. Creed sighed, releasing Toad's quivering shoulders.

" 'Tooth?"

Mort's voice was soft and drained, and slurred a bit more than usual. Victor answered.

"Yeah, it's me, runt. We're headed back to the mainland."

"D' we win?"

"...I don't think so."

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**There you are! If you have any heart at all, REVIEW, DAMNIT!**


	4. Four

**Well, here it is. It's been SO long since I updated this story that I thought I'd give you TWO (count 'em!) TWO chapters for your personal enjoyment. Now for the warnings; **

**1. These chapters were dreadfully forced**

**2. These characters are dreadfully _out_ of character. **

**Otherwise, _have fun!_**

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"D' we win?"_

_"...I don't think so."_

Mortimer allowed his head to fall back, though regretting it slightly as it cracked against the boat's metallic floor.

It was raining.

Drizzling, actually.

It speckled down upon his face, offering a small refrain from the prickling sensation in his skin. Damnit all. His nerves were shot…

_We failed. _

He closed his eyes, taking in the free air to calm his lungs.

_Failed miserably, Mort,_ he reminded himself, counting his breaths.

The mutant, wounded an thoroughly spent, might have slipped further into the process of self spitefulness and scolding, had he not been fighting his loss of consciousness. Instead, he listened to his own heart beat, focusing only that single necessity.

_Live._

Had he been in a better state of mind, he might have focused past the raking pain he was fighting.

Had he been in a better state of mind, he might have considered, for a moment, the violent shivering that was rattling his frame.

Mortimer Toynbee was an amphibianoid ; Attributes, as much in the cosmetic sense as it was in the physical sense, took after the general rules of an amphibian, namely a frog. -And with layers upon layers of soaking clothing wrapped around his form, his heat-sensitive body was taking a harsh beating. _Had he been in a better state of mind_, he would have been taking more necessary action.

Sabertooth was hardly what you'd call a nurse.

The felinoid was in a like state of pain, his body still poised upon healing it's self, while his mind was struggling to keep focus on piloting the unfamiliar boat, so it was quite a spell before his left ear twitched, (yes _twitched_) thoughtfully, and he took his eyes from the controls for a fraction of a second. He was not a creature that naturally mothered the weak, and he did not care to start with the smallish, greenish man trembling at his feet. But Raven had taught him the complexities of the functions of Toynbee's body, a fact unknown even to Toynbee himself, and Sabertooth knew what was necessary. The Brotherhood didn't need to be any smaller than it already was.

Victor hadn't the time nor experience to administer any large amount of medical attention to The Toad, but did consent to drape his fur-lined trench-jacket over the mutant's prone body.

He looked bad.

- But it wasn't in their best interest for Creed to worry over such things at this point. He instead went back to the controls, struggling to form a plan, struggling to map out his next step, struggling to connect his frayed musings into valid thoughts. Were Magneto there, he would dictate that they should plot a direct course for headquarters, which had been Victor's original intentions. However, the further he pushed himself from the incident, the harder he worked to reassemble his mind and sort logic from instinctual reaction, the more he began to doubt his judgment.

Most creatures who knew Victor, humans (short lived relationship, granted) and mutants alike, didn't much have him pinned as an intellectually inclined character. Victor himself admitted to being more the brawn than the brain of the Brotherhood's establishment. -That said, doubting his own judgment was not unfamiliar to Victor. But this situation, bore some logic that was clear even to him; What _of_ the Lair? Magneto had done his best to choose a well concealed location, but would it remain sheltered?

The harbor wasn't far off, visible even now, and Victor momentarily put his musings aside, quieting the motor and allowing the boat to continue on momentum alone as he searched or a possible place to dock. His eyes, squinted and scanning, locked upon a single object, moving along the docks at a leisurely pace. As he came closer, the single figure became two, and two became three. Victor glared a them, suspicion growing behind his tired eyes; They were staring right back. The leader nodded to him good naturedly, raising a hand and waving. Victor growled.

He pulled the boat in, all the while warily staring down the approaching three. He knew from a single glance he could physically outmatch any of them with a single blow, decided to make quick use of their presence. He tossed a line to the leader of the three, a dark-haired man whom appeared several years his comrades' senior. The man caught the line and knelt without a word to fasten it. On of the younger two caught the second line Victor tossed from the bow, while the last only stood, shoulders relaxed and hands tucked nonchalantly into his pockets. When the boat was secure, the eldest of the three finally smiled up to Victor from behind a pair of rectangular glasses. "Victor Creed?"

Victor nodded, arms crossed menacingly upon his chest.

The man stepped foreward, offering a hand. "My name is Joseph Standel. I've been expecting you."

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**Ooooh! Cliffy! Better click that review button, and then go on to the next chapter!**


	5. Five

**I appologize to all my Toad-loving fangirls for the lack of Toad angst/action thus far, but I can _promise_ we'll get some Toady goodness in the next chapter. I had started it, and then my computer decided to die off on me.. -- Any way, please be patient, I'm getting there. **

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_The man stepped foreward, offering a hand. "My name is Joseph Standel. I've been expecting you."_

Victor only glared, unimpressed.

Joseph, unshaken by the cold response, tried a second approach. "The authorities are looking for you and your friend. I think it's best you come with us." Still unwavering, Victor refused a response, a growl rumbling from deep within his throat. Joseph raised a brow, allowing himself one more opportunity to make connection with the monstrous mutant. "Your hideaway is forfeited, Mr. Creed. The coordinates were anonymously reported to them over an hour before your leader lead the attack. You have no where to go." He paused, allowing the information to sink in. "-And your friend is very ill."

Victor growled at the remark, flashing a set of fangs. "You know a little too much."

A cool presence cut into his mind, rippling through his already exhausted psyche.

_**More than you're aware, Mr. Creed.**_

Victor flinched, laying his ears flat.

**_Get out of my _head!**

Joseph stared directly into Victor's eyes.

_**I'm only here to help you. Please, come with us.**_

Victor felt the presence leave him, and he immediately steadied himself with a hand on the railing. Joseph watched him, face coolly business like. "So, Mr Creed, will you come with us? Mr. Toynbee gravely needs medical attention, and you're still very weak."

Victor growled once again, more softly than before, vexed by the boldness of the man. He allowed himself a moment, keen senses picking up on the shallow breathes of Mortimer, stretched out behind him. The faint pulse in his veins. A trickle of sweat.

"Mr. Creed? We don't have time for indecision."

Victor turned wordlessly, gathering Mortimer from the puddle of bay water that had formed about his body. Keeping an eye constantly upon Joseph and his two followers, he stepped off the boat. The two younger lads, both resembling Joseph in build, met him with honest faces, "We'll take him, sir. Give him over." Victor complied, feeling his weariness tugging at every aching muscle in his body. The two boys (couldn't have been over nineteen) accepted Toad's body gracefully, slinging one of his arms over either shoulder. The taller of the two spoke, his voice calm and friendly. "We're not far from the van, Mr. Toynbee. You can rest soon." They began the slow journey, holding him aloft. Joseph glanced at Victor, motioning for him to follow. Once again, Victor complied.

The van, as promised, was in the parking lot just past the dock security fence, which was curiously open and unmanned. Victor didn't question, just followed, allowing himself to be lead to an inconspicuous minivan with an inconspicuous paint job. -Which they walked straight past. The vehicle in question was in fact _not_ a van, but an ancient well rusted, gray exteriored suburban truck. The monstrous rig seemed ready to growl back.

The boys opened the back doors, revealing the last row of seating to have been laid flat. They helped the barely conscious Mortimer into the makeshift bed and climbed in after him.

"Come this way, Victor. They'll take care of him." Joseph motioned with a jerk of his head, walking about to the other side of the truck. Victor followed, mentally ordering himself not to stagger as his body continued to weaken, fatigue growing. He slid into the row of seating behind the driver's side, his head lolling back against the seat-back. He was aware of Joseph's voice, thrumming from ahead: "Victor, I realize I neglected to introduce you to my boys; Michael and Gabriel." A distracted reply emerged from behind him, but he felt his coherency slipping away. The last sound he recognized was the tell-tale rumbling of an engine.

But for Mortimer Toynbee, it was a different matter entirely…

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**That's it for now, but I'm working on it as you read this, I swear! Please, if you haven't already graced me with a review, do so now! They make me all warm and fuzzy inside! **


	6. Six

**Second reworking this chapter's recieved. The sixth is almost done, and I'll have posted it soon, I promise. **_  
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_But for Mortimer Toynbee, it was different matter entirely…_

The pain had been growing as the shock that had rattled his system began to fade. All the while that Victor had hovered near by, that he had laid in that damned puddle , that the two beings had carried him to where he was now, he had been aware of a tiny flame within his chest. As his body had worked to restart and repair itself, the flame had continued to blossom, and was now crawling agonizingly into his heart, his lungs, his belly. His muscles begin to tighten, his limbs curling into his sides without his consent.

There was a constant redness. A constant blinding white. A constant flaring pain. He wanted to retreat. Couldn't. Breathing was suddenly a labor.

_Wos 'appenin'? _

His face twisted in agony.

Dazed and confused, he lay in the company of the strangers, his eyes heavily lidded and glassy. He couldn't make himself focus on any one point, nor could he will himself to pull away from the intrusive presence. His mind, jumbled and reeling, would not relay the message to his body.

_Retreat!_

()()()()()

"How's he looking, Michael?"

Michael's hands remained poised over Toynbee's prone body as he shot a response over his shoulder: "Pretty awful, Dad. His insides are fried; I don't even know if I can heal him." He issued another wave of blue energy from his hands, allowing it to ripple over his patient, exploring the various wounds. "He's burned pretty bad on the outside too." He murmured an order to his brother beside him, Gabriel, who was mutely peeling away the soaked an tattered clothing from Toynbee's torso. "Careful, Gabe, they're already infected from the bay water." Gabriel complied without a word, slowing his methodic pace in his delicate task.

Michael reset his focus, willing another pulse of light from his spider-like hands into the mutant's chest. "I can't do a lot for him right now."

"He's bleeding from the mouth, Mike." Gabe's voice seeped into the tenseness of the beaten down Suburban. Michael observed the trickle of crimson in a single glance, sending a probing ripple throuth the mutant's chest. "It's not his lungs. They're still intact, for the most part. -But his body's slipping faster than I'm healing it. He's too cold." He trained his hand once again over the injured body, allowing the energy to flow. It rippled around Gabriel's hands as he begun to strip away the clothing further south.

They were touching him. Handling him. Pushing and pulling and moving him. Mortimer felt the panic rise in his chest, but could not respond, desperate though he was. He was aware of them peeling the water-heavy cloth from his skin, leaving him bare and defenseless. The chilled air bit into the exposed flesh, and he felt himself begin to shiver, his heart pounding in his chest.

_Leave me alone!_

Michael's fingers suddenly laced around Gabriel's wrist. "Gabe, stop." Gabe raised a brow.

"We have to get the wet clothes off of him, Mike. He'll end up hypothermic."

"-I can feel his pulse _jump_ every time you lay a hand on him. His heart's already so weak."

Here Joseph intervened, taking his mind off navigating the road for a moment. "He's probably terrified, guys. His past is an emotional wreck that I haven't even _begun _to sift through yet; I can feel it from here." Gabe looked helplessly to Mike. "What do we do then?"

"Just try and keep him warm with what you can, Mike," Joseph's voice rang from the driver's seat. "I've got the heat on."

Meanwhile, Toynbee shivered beneath their restraint, his face twisted in agony. Mike lay his hand across the man's brow, willing another wave of sapphire light into him.

In his own mind, Mortimer was growing to dread every touch more and more. With each moment of contact with this creature's skin, he felt a gnawing cold slither into his body. It teased into his wounds, wound it's self about his heart, raked it's icy little fingers across his brain.

_M'goin' ta die. _

Mike's eyes widened as he sat straight up, drawing away it if the mutant's skin had burned him. Gabe glanced at him inquiringly. "What now?" Michael ran his fingers through his hair irately. "My powers. They're making it worse. The main agent of my healing ability is the cold. It's supposed to calm the pain. For him, it's making the damage worse, because I'm just freezing him from the inside."

Gabe's face was blank as he stared at Toynbee's body, now shivering more violently than before.

"We're going to kill him, Dad. There's nothing we can do that won't hurt him," Mike's voice was laced with frustrated resign.

"Don't think that way, Mike. I know there are some blankets back there. Just cover him up and keep him warm the best you can. We're not far from home." Gabe and Mike complied; laying the wool blanket their mother kept for emergencies across Toynbee's scarred chest.

"I've got him for now, Gabe. Go check on the other one."

Gabriel climbed carefully over the seat, situating himself with a respectable distance between his body and Creed's, examining from afar. With no danger evident, he scooted closer, noting out loud; "There's a lot of blood on his clothes, Dad. I can't see the source or that it's still coming. There's a lot on his face, too, but no cuts to justify it. It's weird."

Joseph allowed the comment to dangle for a moment before responding. "From what I picked up, -and his mind is incredibly jumbled, so there's not a lot, - his body has powerful regenerative properties. He can heal himself at rates most of us deem impossible."

"Well he just looks dead to me," Gabriel said, scooting back away from the feliniod.

"He's exhausted, Gabe. His body's trying to repair it's self."

Gabriel kept his silence, not sparing Toynbee nor Creed a second glance. He climbed back over the row of seating to collapse in his usual spot on the right side by the second window back, staring out into the darkness.

Not a single being in the vehicle, baring the unconscious Mortimer and the Semi-conscious Victor, seemed fazed by this latest incident, and for that matter, why should they have? It was just another day in paradise.

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**I hope this version of the chapter was a little more satisfying. I really can't make myself happy with it. Good graces untill the next installment. **


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